Untitled
by HoofsTails Gal
Summary: Summary: An injured Sam leads to a brotherly fluff moment that's far more revealing than any they've had. Set when they're children


_Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot_

_A/N: A quick oneshot that just wouldn't keep going for me._

_Summary: An injured Sam leads to a brotherly fluff moment that's far more revealing than any they've had. (Set when they're children)_

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_Untitled_

Dean always promised to be there. Whether "there" included Sam's soccer game, academic decathlon competition or even just the routine dentist appointment.

Dean wanted to protect his younger brother. He always had, ever since asking for a sibling on Christmas one year. He just didn't understand how the need had embedded itself so deeply into his heart and soul. All he wanted was for Sam to be happy.

And that was why Dean absolutely hated that John Winchester allowed Sam to hunt with them. Dean knew that Sam deserved better. He deserved to have a normal life, one that the three men could just be a family talking about girls and cars and anything else that guys talked about.

Instead Sam faced evil every day. He was raised to only see the evil, not the good or beautiful.

That was why Dean hated John deep down, although on the outside he showed affection, in the core of his being John was just as evil as what they hunted. That was why Dean blamed his father for Sam's most recent injury, and that was why Dean could never tell Sam he loved him.

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Dean sat next to the hospital bed watching his brother breathing deeply in his sedated state.

Sam was fourteen years old, too young to have the hospital record he possessed. Too young to have "broken four ribs and his right pinky by slipping on a chunk of ice" as John had so eloquently stated to the doctor.

It all seemed surreal, Sam's beaten body lying motionless in front of him.

Dean scooted closer to the bed, resting his head on the railing with a deep, tired, sigh.

It hadn't been long ago that Sam had been young, long dirty blonde hair reaching past his ears, even though it seemed like decades ago.

Dean gave another sigh, one that no longer hid his worry and guilt. He had never argued with his father, but if he would have then Sam wouldn't be in this hospital bed, unconscious and bruised to an unrecognizable pulp.

The doctors had asked questions. John Winchester was not a small man. His six foot three frame and muscles gave him the appearance of a burly bear. A bear that wouldn't wait to strike out at an unsuspecting victim. In fact, the medical team had insisted upon asking Dean questions.

Dean had laughed at them. They kept asking if John had ever hit him or physically abused him. All the boy could do was laugh. John had never hit Sam or Dean. Never. He had let ghosts, demons, and any other evil being do the beating for him. Of course Dean answered no every time they asked, which seemed to be a ridiculous amount.

It had ended when Dean had erupted with anger, telling them that all he cared about was his brother's well-being and that they were purposefully distracting him from visiting his injured sibling. They had released him from the barrage of questions and escorted him to the hospital room.

John still had not arrived, and for that, Dean was glad. He didn't want to see his father. He didn't want to feel the anger and mal-contempt surge through him before having to shove it under the radar.

Sam stirred, opening his eyes at the unfamiliar smells and sounds. Dean leaned over him, covering his emotions with a well practiced smile.

"Hey there Sammy." Dean sat back down as his brother rolled his head to the side, a frown marring his features.

"It's Sam." Dean was taken aback. The nickname had never affected the younger boy before.

"Since when?" Dean could only manage that question past the complete and utter shock he was feeling.

"Since I almost died." Sam's statement hit home. The pain erupted from Dean's heart first and then set into his bones.

"You weren't even close bro." Dean reached over and rubbed Sam's arm affectionately. Sam pulled away, jarring his ribs. The pain came out in his words.

"I saw the light Dean." He glared at his brother, the pain flowing into anger. "I saw mom." He quickly shut his eyes willing the moistness to disappear. It did not.

"I'm sorry Sam." Dean saw the pain, the sorrow, but most of all he saw the anger. Anger that Dean had prevented Sam from reuniting with the mother he never knew, the mother who had given her life for him.

Sam nodded once, a single tear falling down his cheek. Dean wiped it away.

"She was prettier than you said and I just-" Sam choked on his words, "I just want to talk to her."

"I know... So do I." Dean rested his hand on Sam's arm again, hoping he wouldn't pull away. He didn't.

"Why'd you take me away then? Why'd you save me?" Sam's words weren't accusing, they were plain, no anger, just innocence.

"I didn't wanna loose you Sammy- Sam... you're my brother. I- well... care about you." Dean shifted awkwardly. He didn't want his brother to see him as weak. Conversations like these were horrible for Dean. They always brought forth emotions he didn't like having. They were far too overwhelming in their intensity. Fear and anger, Dean could deal with, but anything else he couldn't stand.

"I know, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have wanted to leave." Sam finally opened his eyes. A smile spread across his face, "I think these drugs make me act like a girl."

Dean laughed, the smile only reaching his eyes a little.

_-lowercased_


End file.
